


The Spirit of Growth

by DeadHeather



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Orc, Slow Burn, Slow Writer, no understanding of anything mecahnical, orc boyfriend, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:14:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25574170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadHeather/pseuds/DeadHeather
Summary: A new beginning, new town and...old wounds. Breva moved to the small town of Rockferd. Known for it's mostly monster residents and general lack of change. She hopes to get her grandfathers farm up and running to distract from her heavy past. Everything starts out fine until she meets the local shop keeper. A mountain of an orc name Bel'Vok. The sight of him shakes her past and brings it's terror to her throat. Now she has to navigate the challenges of farm life, and this orc who seems to hang around her way too much, threatening the stability she'd tried so hard to have.
Relationships: original orc character/original female character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	The Spirit of Growth

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story! It's the first one I've ever posted so I hope that's okay! I'm a pretty slow writer, so don't expect too many updates. But I'll write when I can! 
> 
> Lastly I want to say that this story was inspired from a similar story I read long ago, but can't seem to find :( I enjoyed the premise of it so much I wanted to make my own! If anyone happens upon it please let me know. I would very much love to credit the writer and say thanks for inspiring me to write as well.

The letter had been professionally written on thick paper. In the same envelope, another paper had seals and stamps on it, declaring it legally binding. The first stated that her Grandfather had passed away, with condolences of course. It also said that in his will, Breva Fields, would receive the land and house that he had owned. The second paper being the deed to said land and house. 

Breva stared at the papers unsure of what to do with them. Her mind was as empty as she felt at the moment. Woodenly, she handed the papers back to her mother. 

“That’s quite a gift.” Her mother spoke softly staring at the letter. 

“The death of my grandfather?” 

Her mother shook her head, “No, don’t be so dramatic. The land and a house!” 

Breva sat down on the soft carpet floor and stared at it. “Why...did he leave me that? What does he expect me to do with it?” 

“Work it probably. It’s not just land, it’s a farm. He most likely gave it to you because...” She trailed off awkwardly. 

A weight pushed in on Breva from all sides. She took deep breaths until it eased. “There is no way I can do that. A farm is a lot of work. I can barely keep the house plants alive right now.” 

Her mother joined her on the floor, not saying anything at first. She placed her hand on Brevas knee and looked at her. “Hear me out bucko. Why not try? It's in a small town, five hours away from here. You remember? We visited a few times when you were younger. Plus, all the hard work will focus your mind on literally anything else. And if it’s not for you, come back home, and I’ll make fun of the horrible farmers accent you’ll surely have picked up by then.” 

Her mother patted her knee then mimicked a southern accent. “Y’all best be heardin’ them cows like stink ona’ skunk!” 

Breva couldn’t help but smile. She elbowed her mom and mimicked her back. “Dang ol’ possuns been getting in the corn again!” 

They both laughed until Breva grew quiet and looked away. Her mother patted her knee again and stood up. 

“Don’t think too long. Springs almost here; you’ll want to get a jump on planting those seeds.” She smiled and walked into the kitchen. Breva grabbed pillows off the couch and curled up on the floor. She stared at the wall, letting her thoughts drift like clouds. 

~ 

A week wandered by and Breva was standing in the kitchen, books scattered all over the dining table. A late night internet adventure through various online bookstores and a few expensive purchases later here she was. 

The front door clicked several times as locks were opened and the house alarm beeped loudly. Her mother entered, closing the door after her. Locking it up securely she walked into the kitchen, her keys hitting the counter. 

“Breva! Looks like you’re getting ready to take on a farm.” She said, her hands gently squeezing Breva’s shoulders. 

“It’s a lot more involved than I thought. I have to cycle the dirt, only water them at certain times of day, everything changes depending on the type of crop, even when I should plant those crops. There’s so much.” 

Her mother smiled. “Good.” 

Breva scoffed. “You’re not the one having to do it all.” 

“No, but I am excited that you’re taking it seriously. When do you want to get started?” she said. 

“Honestly it all feels overwhelming. I mean...I kind of understand the basics of crop growth but I need to stay on top of the weather, as far as a month even. I need to till soil and-” She began to speak faster and waving her hands around. Her mother nodded solemnly until she was done. 

“...Seems like it’s a lot of work.” 

Breva put down the book she had been holding and looked around the kitchen and living room. Since coming home Breva hadn’t really moved back into her room. Something about it was off. She felt safer knowing she could react to an intruder in the house immediately by staying in the living room. Since inhabiting that space however it had become quite...cluttered with art supplies and other things. 

Her mother began rummaging around kitchen cabinets, pulling a kettle and some cups down. 

Breava spoke softly “I want to do it. Or at least try.” 

“Wonderful! I’m so excited!” her mom said. 

“Yeah. Besides it’ll be good for me. Somehow.” 

~ 

The old two-story house stood almost forgotten amidst the overgrown lawn, broken porch swing, two truck roofs that she could spot poking up from the grassy jungle, and a rusty shed that was one rough gust of wind from falling over. Breva dropped her bag and suitcase on the road and just stared in disbelief. It had been a charming house but the broken glass windows, peeling paint, and the entire left side of the house covered in a pale green moss had faded all charm away. At least she hoped it was moss. 

The farm field stretched for several acres behind the house ending where the forest began and it had fared no better. Wild flowers, tall grass and all kinds of weeds ran rampant through the fields like wild horses. 

The neglect continued on with weeds swallowing the flower beds and brick path to the house. The driveway, made with loose pebbles, was under assault with thick brambles that meandered to the road at her feet. 

Breva stared at the house. It loomed back at her. The taxi driver whistled low and wished her the best of luck as they drove off. Bird songs hung in the chill morning air. She clenched the keys she’d gotten from the lawyer that ran her grandfather’s will reading. She let go and grasped the handles of her bags and began trudging up the rocky bramble path. She only stumbled once. 

The lock was so rusted on the door she could barely turn the key inside. After several curses and sore hands, she gave up. Looking at the broken windows nearby she heaved a sigh. Clearing as much glass as she could using her boot heel from the window, she carefully ducked inside. It was dark but every surface was covered in a thick layer of dust. Corners of rooms and rafters were filled with trash and cobwebs. Breva covered her mouth as the dusty air greeted her. She leaned out the window to grab her bags and placed them inside. A cloud of dust puffed into the air, causing her to choke. Swatting what dust she could away, she began to look for light switches. A yellowed switch near the door caught her attention. She flipped it. Nothing. 

“Awesome.” 

Breva pulled her phone out and turned the flashlight on as she began to explore the house. The first story had a wide-open kitchen that led to the dining room. Through a set of sliding doors was a living room that was filled with moth eaten furniture. A modest but foul-smelling bathroom down a hallway to the left of that. Upstairs were three bed rooms and two more bathrooms that had large, but very dirty, bath tubs accompanied by equally dirty toilets. She glimpsed the door to the attic and didn’t even touch it. Old bookshelves and tables were scattered around the house that might have a chance at staying but there was no way she was keeping much else. Including the mattresses. Which reminded her, where was she sleeping? 

She hobbled through the window to the outside and breathed in the fresh air. With her mind clearer she picked out the truck roofs in the yard. Breva shoved the tall grass down with her boots and stomped to the closest one. Once exposed she saw that it had melted tires and was a faded rusty blue. She tried the door and to her surprise it opened, albeit with a loud metallic whine. 

The seats were a worn beige leather but the truck itself was strangely clean. The seats looked plenty large enough for her to sleep on so she grabbed her bags from the house and placed them inside. Her bags taken care of; she pulled her hair out of her face with a hair tie and glared at the house. 

~ 

Breva ended the day by peeling her dusty, sweaty hoodie off and climbed into the truck with the weight of her exhaustion heavy on her body and even more tired soul. Once in she pulled her sleeping bag out and promised to thank her mom for the wonderful insight of telling her to bring one. She kicked off her boots and curled up inside the sleeping bag. With monumental effort she pulled her phone out of her pocket. Battery life blipped in at twenty-two percent. Plenty enough to call her mom and get the power turned on tomorrow. Her mother insisted that she call her every night to make sure she’s doing okay. Breva smiled weakly as she tapped through her few contacts. She wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Her mother answered on the third ring. 

“Breva! How’s my farmer daughter doing? How’s the house? Christ I barely remember how it looked when I was younger.” 

Breva laughed. “Everything’s peachy mom. I was able to get most of the downstairs taken care of. Got as much furniture out as I could and swept an ocean of dust out of there. There was a spider the size of my hand under a newspaper. I think I swatted it to the damn moon.” 

“Oh honey you’re the bravest soul I've ever met.” 

~ 

Sunlight fell on her face as Breva was dragged to consciousness. She covered her eyes and stretched as much as she could in the truck. Her hand dropped to the floor and rummaged around until it grasped her phone. 

8:37a.m 

She heaved a long sigh and sat up. Her body stiff from the position she’d been sleeping in. She moved around and put her boots on in a daze. After hopping out of the truck and yawning several times, she took a look at the house. It had not changed. 

“One day at a time.” She said. 

After a refreshing breakfast of nothing with a side of stretching and yawns, Breva got to work. She started by opening all the windows that would open, to let air in and worked on the door. Kicking it loosened the rusty hinges enough that she was able to pry the lock apart from the rotten frame and took the whole door out. It fell with a bang and a cloud of dust rose to choke Breva. Swatting it away as much as she could she pushed the door out of the way onto the porch. 

One by one, she dragged the decrepit furniture from the lawn and onto the side of the road. Having found a broom in the kitchen pantry yesterday, with some spiders, she set about clearing the second floor. 

Thick curtains fought her as she tried to open windows. They'd been there for longer than she was alive, she was sure of it. Taking them off the poles and dragging them outside, she realized they contained enough dust to completely cover her head to booted toe. Several coughing fits later, all the curtains were finally in the trash pile. Most of the glass on the windows was either heavily cracked, or completely broken. Large pieces sat in the frames, covered in a thick coat of green slime, not moss. No way was she going to touch that without gloves. 

Wandering outside she realized how hot she was. It was the beginning of spring and she was covered in sweat and dust. She walked to the squat old shed that sat on the side of the house. The doors were chained and padlocked shut, but they were rusted around the edges. She grabbed them and gave the handles a mighty tug. They popped off with a small rust cloud that Breva tossed aside. She had to fight the doors to get them open, but she was way more determined then forty-year-old shed doors had any hope to be. The inside of the shed looked much like the house had. Dust and cobwebs covered most everything in here. The only difference being rust and a few animal nests here and there. Brava turned the flashlight on from her phone and looked for any kind of gloves and a toolbox. Finding no gloves, she did encounter a toolbox under some rotting cardboard boxes. It was filled with well-loved tools, in usable condition. A glint of non-rusted metal caught her eye as she hefted the box up. 

A pocket knife lay on the table, it’s blue and silver handle shining. Breva put the toolbox down and grabbed the knife. Carefully she opened the blade to see that it had several scratches and nicks along it, but its edge was clean and sharp. Closing the knife, she stowed it in her pocket as she smiled and picked up the toolbox. One thing out here that wants to keep going she thought. 

Without gloves she didn’t want to touch the broken windows but leaving all the glass there was not going to be safe. Going to the trash pile she’d been making, Breva used the knife to cut a large piece of curtain off. It cut through the fabric like butter. Shaking the dust off of it she walked back to the windows. At first, she tried wrapping it around the large piece of glass, but the slime kept her from getting a solid grip. Folding the curtain into a square she used it as a buffer to grab the edge with both hands. 

The green slime was a force not to be reckoned with this carelessly. As she pulled up, the glass stayed firmly in its place and cut through the curtain and into her hand. Dropping the curtain piece, she clenched her fists and let out an exasperated groan. Opening her injured hand, she saw that the cut started at the edge of her palm and went across to her wrist. Blood dripped steadily down, landing on the wood floor with soft pats. Looking around she realized she didn’t have a first aid kit of any kind here. 

“Of course,” She laughed, “Of course.” 

Time to make a trip to town. 

Breva opened the truck and dug through her bag to find some socks. Using her teeth, she wound them as tight as she could around her hand and wrist. She tied the hoodie around her waist and pocketed her wallet. As she walked down the road away from the house, she put her headphones in and tried her best not to think about the hot walk ahead of her. 

The town of Rockferd was located a few miles from the Rocky Mountains. As such thick forests surrounded the town, stretching out for miles. Breva marveled at the many different shades of green that surrounded her. Deep dark emerald oaks to bright lush pines greeted her with a sullen silence. The trees stretched out their mighty limbs over the road, giving her cool shade to walk in. After a while Breva took off her headphones and listened to the sounds of birds as they sang and flitted about in the trees. 

One eternal trek through half civilized woods later Breva spotted the sign into town. 

WELCOME TO ROCKFERD 

A TOWN IN THE PINES 

POPULATION 2500 

Something told her the population didn’t change much here. 

Buildings came into view and Breva had to admire them. They were made from the large dark trees that came from the surrounding forest. This town had to be old, as hand crafting all this, which it all undoubtedly was, would have taken years. She passed the stout post office with it’s one window and small door, the fire station which had two well worn jeeps outfitted with gear and hoses, and after passing several large pines, the grocery store. 

A large sign made of a lighter grain of wood had the words General Goods burned into it, with another sign hanging below made of metal. That one had & Auto Shop artfully welded onto it. They hung from a two-story shop on her right. Relief washed over her as she trudged to open the wooden doors and stepped inside. Air conditioning hit her like a refreshing ocean wave, making her feel lightheaded. 

Upon opening, the door had hit a small bell. It’s clear ring chimed throughout the store. A deep voice called from behind some shelves near the back. “Be there in a sec!” 

The smells of sawdust, fresh cut wood, spices and motor oil filled Breva’s nose. Lights hung from the ceiling beams while large store front windows provided bright sun rays that dappled the brown wooden floors. Shelves lined with grocery items spanned most of the space with the back walls and counter area contained all kinds of work tools, supplies and equipment. Barrels of cut wood congregated near a short hallway on her left while a door past the counter led to an auto garage. 

Breva scanned the shelves for first aid kits, her attention drawing to the tools as she made a mental checklist of things she would have to get later. She spotted a fridge near the counter with a glass door that held various sports drinks and some bread snacks on a smaller shelf nearby. Her stomach gnawed angrily for attention. She wobbled over to grab some snacks and a drink. 

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her as the shopkeeper got behind the counter. “How can I help you?” 

Breva had picked out a drink from the fridge and looked up. Her whole body froze in place, hand on the lid it as she saw what the shopkeeper was. An orc built like a mountain towered over the counter in front of her. His skin was the same color as the dark forest oaks that shadowed the town. Thick black hair decorated with silver cuffs was pulled into a loose braid over his shoulder. Tusks thicker than Brevas fingers framed the edges of his mouth and small silver cuffs adorned them as well. His clean-shaven face held a look of surprise as his brown eyes gazed at her. He wore a red plaid button shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his thick arms covered in vibrant tattoos. Dark blue jeans stained with motor oil and a woven leather belt with a belt buckle the shape of an octopus. 

He found his voice fist and cleared his throat. “what...uhm...What can I help you with?” 

Breva’s stomach tightened. Her heart pounded rapidly in her rib cage drowning out all other noise. Reflexively she clenched her fists and the sting from her injured palm grounded her back to the shop. She let go of the drink and quickly tugged her hair to hide her face. 

She nervously looked away. “Do you...” she stopped to loosen her throat. “Have any first aid kits?” 

Damn it! Her voice had too much fear in it, he knew she was scared for sure. 

“Yes, over here.” he walked to the end of an aisle and grabbed one off a shelf. He brought it over to the counter, now a few feet away from her and set it down. “Anything else?” 

She tried to control her breathing while grabbing a few drinks and bread snacks. She spilled them down onto the counter and shook her head. She watched him carefully as he walked behind the counter to the register and sat down. Even sitting he still towered over her. He punched keys on the register, the clicks shooting through her mind like a flurry of deafening blows. Breva’s body was tense, her reflexes poised to sprint at the drop of a pin. Her heart pounded in her head as the rest of the world around her fell out of focus. Her only remaining focus on the orc in front of her and the door behind her. 

Clench 

“That’ll be 6.50$. Do you need a bag?” he said as he lifted his arm up to nervously scratch his cheek. 

She shook her head and fished the money out of her wallet. She quickly placed it on the counter between them and shoved the wallet back in her pocket. He placed the money in the register as Breva picked up the drinks but had to use her injured hand to scoop up the snacks and kit. From the long walk and nervously clenching her hands, blood had seeped through, staining the socks dark red and brown as the blood dried. 

The orc leaned forward; his deep voice rumbling through her head as he rushed his words. “Oh, that looks bad. Are you okay? There's a bathroom over there you’re welcome to use. I see now why you got that kit.” His face lined with concern. 

Breva’s throat tightened when he got close and she took a step back. “I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt.” She turned trying not to spill everything and tried to bolt to the exit, but the orc had stood up and in a few long strides, was near the door. 

“It’s alright, the quicker you bandage it, the less it’ll bother you. Or at least stop more blood from getting on your clothes. Uhm...if you need anything, the name’s Bel’Vok.” He smiled reassuringly and pointed at the door down the hallway. 

Now that the exit was blocked, Breva had an unsettling reminder of how fast orcs are, she mumbled a thank you and went down the hallway listening for footsteps behind her. Once inside the bathroom she closed and locked the door. Leaning against the wall she took deep breaths until the pounding in her head dimmed to a dull throbbing but she felt sick to her stomach. 

“One thing at a time.” she whispered to herself. 

Breva set about dealing with the cut and put everything down on the bathroom counter. While the blood had initially dried the fabric to her palm, she had sweat so much in the past few minutes that it came off easily. She washed the cut thoroughly, not wincing from the pain. Putting ointment on and wrapping the cut was easy. The tricky part was tying the bandage on securely. She used her teeth to hold one end of the bandage and attempted a simple knot. It was loose but she thought it would work for now. 

Cleaning up any blood she may have spilled, Breva opened and downed one of the sports drinks. The cold liquid helped calm her down and clear her head. Tossing the empty bottle in the trashcan nearby, she pulled her hoodie on. Relief washing over her as she felt a little safer within its gentle weight. She shoved the snacks and kit in her front pocket then grabbed the other drink. 

She closed her eyes and steeled herself, senses on alert for any noises in the hallway. Tense moments of silence passed before she felt safe enough to open the door a few inches. Breva didn’t see him standing in the hallway so she cautiously stepped out. Her heart pounded in her ears as a rush of cold sweat chilled her spine. She leaned against the wall and slid down the hallway listening for the orc. The counter came into view and he was behind it, his back to her. He was sorting some tools when the floorboard creaked. He looked up with a friendly smile towards her. 

“Everything ok?” he asked. 

“...yea...thank you.” her throat dry, she gripped her drink and nodded. 

Without waiting for a reply, she rushed towards the exit. The doors opened before she got to them and in walked a large grey werewolf. She wore a sheriff’s jacket, blue plaid button shirt and khaki cargo shorts but no shoes on her large wolf like paws. She was taller than Breva with large yellow eyes and a sharp pointed nose. Breva nearly crashed into her. 

“Whoa there, sorry about that darlin’. Didn’t see ya.” She held her large furry hands up in apology. “Hey wait you’re Breva right? Breva Fields? Oh!” She waved a hand towards the orc. “Hey Bel’Vok! Got a minute?” 

Fuck

“I’m sorry, I’ve got lots of work to do and-” Breva stammered as she tried to slide past the werewolf towards the open door. 

“This will only take a minute and it’s pretty important! Wait just a moment sweetheart?” She spoke in a smooth southern accent and made a smile that matched the sweetness in her eyes. 

Bel’Vok strode up to the werewolf and they shook hands. Even as big as werewolves were, Bel’Vok’s hand enveloped the sheriffs completely. 

“What’s the news Sheriff Torrin?” he said. 

“This darlin’ right here! This is miss Breva Fields and she’s taken over the ol’ farm down the way. I stopped by to pick up some supplies and to see if you’d finished up the truck for her.” Torrin winked at Breva. 

“Oh! Oh, this is her?” He stammered and turned towards Breva. “My apologies, I hadn’t thought to ask. Figured you were an out of town-er.” he nervously laughed and held a hand to the back of his head. “I’ll go get it for you.” 

He backed up and rushed past shelves of goods to the garage door. Breva stood awkwardly away from the sheriff, focusing on her bad bandage job for the moment. Torrin straightened herself and spoke, noticing the blood that had seeped through. 

“The name’s Torrin, Sheriff Torrin if you’d please. By the stars and moon sweetheart! What bit ya?” 

Breva relaxed a little with Bel’Vok gone. She cradled her injured hand as she spoke “That house is putting up a tough fight. I’m lucky to have just this so far.” 

Torrin’s barking laugh shook her athletic frame. “Keep up the good fight honey. That place needs it. Speaking of, glad you’re here right now. Your mother had spoken to me about you moving into that ol’ place and I said wooooweeeee! You’ve got quite a lot of work on your hands that’s for sure.” She let out another laugh, her ears pivoting around as she spoke and nose twitching occasionally. “She asked if there were any local car shops in town. I suggested Bel’Vok, he’s always got somethin’ he’s workin’ on that he could sell ya.” 

Breva remembered her mother telling her about this but with the disaster that was cleaning the farm house, she’d completely forgotten about it. 

A low rumble rose from behind the building and steadily moved around towards the front door. An old black truck pulled into view and parked, it’s engine rumbling to a stop. Bel’Vok stepped out, making the truck dip and rise greatly from his weight. His worn work boots crunched on the rocky parking lot as he came inside, the door bell ringing. 

Bel'Vok’s voice rumbled as he held out the keys towards Breva. “It’s a 1972 Chevy. Relatively rust free with a tough engine. It should keep you going for a few years. Besides some maintenance here and there.” 

Breva picked up the keys from his massive hand doing her best not to touch him. Attached to them was a braided loop made from thin colorful strips of leather and carved beads that as Breva looked closer were made from bone. 

She worriedly looked up at the orc who seemed surprised by her sudden expression. He held up a hand and smiled, his eyes closing for a moment. 

“Oh it’s just stuff I mess with in my free time. I have a friend who owns a cattle ranch and he’ll send me odds and ends of things. Those cows get better treatment then I’ve ever gotten for sure.” 

Bel'Voks chest rumbled as he let out a chuckle and Sheriff Torrin joined in with her barking laughter. Breva looked back down to the keys as Torrin swatted his massive bicep. 

“Ya need to introduce me to ‘em. Bet you get more then just the odds and ends. What with friends like that?” she said. 

“I do ask him for some prime cuts in exchange for mechanic work here and there. Next time I’m over I’ll get some extra for ya.” 

Breva noticed that Bel'Vok didn’t have a thick accent in comparison to the Sheriff. He sounded more like someone who'd grown up in a city. 

Breva quietly cleared her throat and spoke up. “How…how much?” 

“Oh don’t worry about it. Your mother had talked to me already and we sorted everything out. It’s already been paid for. You’re good to go.” Bel'Vok beamed and did a thumbs up. 

“Thank you…well uhm I need to get back. Lots of stuff to work on.” 

Sheriff Torrin in the meantime had stepped away and picked out a few items from the shelves and an iced coffee from the drink cooler. She came back, unscrewed the lid and took a sip from it before nodding solemnly at Breva. 

“Just because you’re Sheriff doesn’t mean you can open stuff in the store.” Bel'Vok said. 

“I’ll pay once you let the girl on with her business. Go on, git. That farms got ya name and blood,” she chuckled, “all over it. Stay safe sweetie and oh!” 

Torrin put the snacks she’d grabbed into her khakis and fished around in her jacket pocket, withdrawing a phone in a thick plastic and metal case. “Let me give you my number and the offices number as well. Feel free to call me for any emergency and the office if the emergency can wait.” 

Breva put the truck keys in her pocket and pulled her own phone out, faced the Sheriff and waited. Bel'Vok slid by, Breva acutely aware of his closeness even though he had given her space. She watched him out of the corner of her eye while Torrin went on about the office secretary and their smelly lunches. 

“…and I hate the smell of tuna. It sticks in the back of your nose for days! You ready sweetheart? Ok here’s mine…and the office…Oh let me give you ‘ol oil hands here as well. Yer gonna need some advice now an' then and he’s the best brain around here for fixin' stuff and ordering anything you need for that farm.” 

Breva's eyes went wide as her head shot up to look Torrin in the face. “Uhhhhhh…I…” 

Surprising Breva , Bel’Vok came to her rescue. “It’s okay Sheriff, just give her the stores number. I’m here more often than not anyways.” 

Sheriff Torrin shrugged then gave Breva that number. She listed off a few others that she thought she might need. The clinic, as this town was too small for a hospital but was run by the best nurse and doctor this side of the mountains. The firehouse, local dinner, and even the bakery. Which Sheriff Torrin swore by their cherry scones. Bel’Vok made a comment about how of course Torrin loved those scones, you could smell them on her now. Torrin barked back at Bel’Vok for being nosey and promptly stomped over to pay for her things. 

Breva smiled a little. The Sheriff seemed nice and looked like she cared for the town. Enough to give the residents her personal cell number at least. She pushed the door open and turned back saying goodbye. 

“Stay safe honey! Call us if you need somethin'!” 

Bel’Vok waved and sheepishly smiled at her. She waved back quickly then ducked outside. 

Torrin was quiet a moment, staring through the doors window as Breva got into the large truck. 

Bel’Vok furrowed his brow. “I don’t think she likes me at all Sheriff. Scared stiff the whole time I was near her.” 

Sheriff Torrin let out a sigh and spoke quietly. “Ain’t yer fault there son. Just let ‘er be. Ya don’t know where she come from so don’t go judging her too harshly now.” 

Bel’Vok nodded and let out a yeah. “That’ll be 10.75$.” 

“The price to pay for delicious iced coffee is steep my friend.” Torrin said.


End file.
